


In Dire Need of Assistance

by dreamlittleyo



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Canon Era, Established Relationship, Humor, I'm not sorry, M/M, Rampant Silliness, Rank Disparity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 08:26:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14233257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: Washington is not usually a cryptic man, but today he seems to be making a deliberate exception.





	In Dire Need of Assistance

Wind stings at Hamilton's ears, reddens his cheeks. It's chillier up here than in the valley below. He shivers beneath the heavy fabric of his uniform.

"Sir?" Trying not to sound anxious, though the ripple of confusion doesn't lend confidence to his tone. "All due respect, but where are we going?"

Washington casts him a humoring backward glance, barely pausing in his momentum up the steep and rocky incline. The expression is not quite a smile, but it's warm. Almost mischievous. It does nothing to ease the perplexity swirling in Hamilton's mind. Then the general's attention turns forward once more, his coat tails flapping behind him in the increasingly powerful wind.

Hamilton doesn't like the cold. And he doesn't like following anyone—not even George Washington—without _some_ idea where he is going.

Washington is not usually a cryptic man, but today he seems to be making a deliberate exception. When he summoned Hamilton away from headquarters he offered no explanation. No announcement as to whether this was some sort of strategic mission, no instructions for Hamilton to bring anything with him.

The lack of direction suggests their mission is of a personal rather than a military nature, but even this provides more questions than answers. Washington would not arrange an assignation in broad daylight—would not summon Hamilton away in front of a room full of witnesses—would surely not aim to despoil him out in the open, even so far removed from camp.

But then, what could their purpose here possibly be? They climb steadily higher along rocky, uneven terrain. Not a mountain, but a bluff so high Hamilton is growing tired. They've rounded out of sight from the camp below, navigating between outcroppings of rock taller than both of them.

When Washington stops, it's so abrupt that Hamilton stumbles against him hard. He barely loses his balance—the climb has not left him _that_ fatigued—but Washington reacts immediately. Strong hands catch and hold him, steadying him against Washington's warmth. Hamilton allows himself to be manhandled, makes no effort to extricate himself. The warmth is nice, a contained inferno fending off the ragged chill.

The fact that Washington seems in no hurry to let go is gratifying—it ignites a pulse of heat beneath Hamilton's skin—an unfamiliar sensation of belonging that he is still not entirely certain how to trust.

"I want you to meet a friend of mine," Washington murmurs, still with that glint of mischief in dark eyes. His hold shifts, relaxes, but he does not let go.

"A friend," Hamilton echoes, puzzled. "Up here?"

"Yes." Washington is smiling now. Easy and smooth and unmistakably affectionate. Another moment and he turns his head, calls into the wind, "Nelson!"

Hamilton's brow furrows. He's heard Washington use that name only once. In passing, to Lafayette, wry and quiet. The sense Hamilton got from that brief exchange does not line up with this strange and isolated location.

He considers keeping his mouth shut, but ultimately cannot manage the trick. "I thought Nelson was your horse." He speaks the words at a whisper, for Washington's ears alone. If his general has some sort of acquaintance meeting them up here, Hamilton doesn't want to give offense.

Washington only laughs. Before Hamilton voice his indignation, movement catches at his peripheral vision. Sleek and strange—not _wrong_ exactly, but not man or animal either—Hamilton can tell this much even before he turns his head. His heart beats instinctively faster.

"A horse am I?" comes a rumbling voice without direction or apparent source.

"Nelson is not my horse," Washington murmurs, and he sounds almost sly.

Hamilton's head is turning decisively now, toward the flicker of movement since he cannot track the voice. His breath stops hard and sudden at what he finds. Disbelief and awe overturn every rational sense and leave a feeling very much like panic in their wake.

Enormous eyes blink at him, black all the way through but reflecting a sheen of violet. Those eyes are positioned far apart—to either side of a reptilian face—on a sleek head twice the size of Hamilton's torso. Scales glint in the sunlight as a long neck stretches high, and a massive body emerges from behind tall stones.

Despite its size the creature moves with a lithe, unlikely grace.

Hamilton's voice catches in his throat, and he clings hard to Washington. Shaking. Not from fear—he doesn't think he's afraid—but from the shock of having the world he knows violently upended.

"This must be your Alexander." The voice is just as placeless now as it was the first time, but there's no mistaking that it comes from the elegant, powerful creature before them. Despite the stillness of the face—despite the fact that the wide mouth does not open—there's a flicker of intelligence in those enormous eyes.

Given his lingering disbelief, it takes Hamilton a moment to process the words. To realize what the creature has actually said, and to analyze the implications. Not only does this creature exist—not only does Washington claim it as a friend—but Washington has shared their most personal and dangerous secret.

This creature— _Nelson_ —knows what George and Alexander are to each other. The secret they have guarded so fiercely from the world.

The revelation doesn't bother him like perhaps it should. Maybe because Hamilton is still not entirely convinced what he's seeing is _real_.

"Yes," Washington answers the question before Hamilton's mind catches up. "This is Alexander Hamilton. My chief of staff. Alexander, this is Nelson."

"Nelson," Hamilton echoes. "A friend."

"Yes." Washington still sounds amused, damn him. Unapologetically pleased with himself.

The hint of amusement pricks Hamilton's pride. Strangely fitting that such a thing should be what convinces him this is all real. His heart is still pounding fast, but he regains some measure of composure. Just enough calm to remove himself from the circle of Washington's arms.

He strides across steep ground, steady despite the rocks scattered in his path. When he is standing midway between Washington and Nelson, he drops smoothly to one knee and tips his head forward in a show of deference.

"It's an honor to meet you."

A flutter of laughter meets his assertion, but somehow Hamilton doesn't feel like it's at _his_ expense. It is more glittering delight than judgment. There's something almost charmed in the sound. A shimmer of approval as Nelson cocks its—His? Her? Their?—head to one side.

" _Oh_. George, he is _enchanting_." That voice ripples like running water over a riverbed of polished stones.

When Hamilton rises to his feet, Washington's gaze follows him.

"Sir." With reluctance Hamilton takes his eyes off of Nelson—it's difficult to stop looking at a flesh and blood _dragon_ —and turns once more to his general. "I'm glad to meet your friend, but you still haven't told me what we're doing here."

"My dear boy." Washington moves to stand at Hamilton's side, exchanging a quick but eloquent look with Nelson. "We are here to form an alliance."

Hamilton gawps at his general. His mouth hangs ajar. He cannot have heard right.

"Sir?"

Washington smiles. "Nelson and his family are going to help us win this war."

The words take several seconds to sink in. The enormity of what Washington is proposing creeps over Hamilton slowly. Impossible. Dragons aren't real.

But Nelson perches before him. Solid and alive and improbable. A first glimpse at a world so much wider than Hamilton could have imagined. Terrifying. Incredible. Wrong and perfect and full of promise.

He meets Nelson's eyes and grins.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: **[Dragon](https://dreamlittleyo.dreamwidth.org/103669.html)**
> 
> I also hang out **[over on Dreamwidth](https://dreamlittleyo.dreamwidth.org/)** if that is a place anyone still goes. In the rare instance I'm inspired to post things that aren't fic--or participate in wider fandom happenings--that's where you'll find me. :D


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